


A Midsummer Night's Sport

by Laughing_Phoenix



Category: Midsummer Night's Dream - Shakespeare
Genre: Bad Puns, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Innuendo, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Puns & Word Play, So much Innuendo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laughing_Phoenix/pseuds/Laughing_Phoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Oberon, Puck, and Titania make good use of their time and pass a pleasurable hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Midsummer Night's Sport

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Culumacilinte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Culumacilinte/gifts).



_[Curtain rises on room with divan. Enter OBERON and PUCK.]_

OBERON: Come, my sweet spirit, kneel thou there.  
I have in mind some further plot.  
With which we’ll take our pleasure  
This summer’s eve, and would thy aid.

PUCK: An so my lord  
Commands, I do obey. What’s your will?

OBERON: Link thine arms behind thy back.

_OBERON runs his hand along PUCK’s arms_

As the creeping ivy, or the woodbine  
Do twine themselves about the limbs  
Of trees, constraining them to weighty earth  
That would stretch to heav’ns dome,  
So let these limbs, of rarer matter,  
Be bound.

PUCK: My lord, I pray, intends not  
To plant me as a tree. I were not  
Suited to’t. And yet, were I to pray  
(In what manner I might best please my lord)  
There were little better way to do it.

OBERON: Thy prayers, my spirit,  
Are that to drive the eternal stones  
‘Pon which Olympus rests to  
Shaking.

PUCK: ‘Tis true, my lord, yet  
Those same stones were of the  
Fire made, born from Earth’s molten  
Breast in times past knowledge and  
Recounting, and in the hazy substance  
Of their memory recall that hot eruption.

OBERON: Peace, my spirit, peace.  
There is yet time tonight, and I would  
Spend it in such fashion as I designed.

PUCK: And for such peace and time  
I cry ‘amen’, or would an could  
Place mine hands in fashion  
Of the mortals, they that kneel  
At cold stone feet of their lord gods.  
Their lords might, so their tales do go,  
Open the skies and shatter mountains,  
Yet I do think my lord the greater,  
For stone cannot return disciple’s  
Embrace, nor shatter and restore  
Their worshipper.

OBERON: Enough. Thy arms are bound.  
There let them stay, ‘til such time as  
I release thee.

PUCK: And stay they shall,  
As my lord bade me.  
What’s your will? To taste  
Such pain’ed pleasures as would  
Awe those lords of Araby which  
Do reside in perfume’d halls, who a score  
Or more of black-eyed nymphs do  
Dancing tend? To press thy  
Will indomitable ‘pon this form  
Before thee, send the hours thrice  
Roundabout their candle-mark’s  
Short space, prolonging dusky  
Night in its sky-long ride?

OBERON: My will, sweet mischief,  
Is thy momentary silence.

PUCK: Haps  
My lord ‘ud stop his obeisant’s  
Prayers, putting tongue to other use.

OBERON: Thy lord yet might,  
Thou chatter’st like the goose  
That sits in pen at market,  
Remarking ‘pon the passers-by  
In happy ignorance of pot and spit.

PUCK: An were I a goose,  
My lord must needs pluck me  
‘Ere he delight of me.

OBERON: An wert thou plucked,  
Were naked.

PUCK: But a word from my noble  
Master, and plucked this Puck  
Shall be. Aye, and spitted too,  
Shouldst thou decree.

OBERON: The spit may wait  
Betimes, my Puck, yet occurs  
That I would see the plucked.

_PUCK makes to stand_

Rise not, for as the fatted goose  
Bares not his skin, dependent instead  
On hand of that which death do deal him,  
Shall you not lose thy garment,  
Relying on thy lord to pluck thee bare.

PUCK: And with a little death  
I do hope my lord requite me.  
Yet, were I goose in truth, the  
Brief release ‘ud precede the plucking.

OBERON: Fortunate art thou,  
My Puck, that thou are not  
Such a fowl.

_OBERON strips PUCK_

In truth, fair spirit,  
I think thee more akin to  
Pearl in oyster, for stripped  
Of rough cover dost shine indeed.

PUCK: Pearl? What’s pearl?  
Some sand in shell which poor  
Creature must of necessity cover,  
Lest be ground away, ta’en again and set  
As ornament in some lady’s ear?  
Pearls I’ll wear, an’ my lord  
Desire, yet of me transmute not  
A pearl.

OBERON: Pearls hast worn  
And shall again, yet ‘tis for thy  
Traits in whole I name thee pearl,  
E’en to thy core.  
And lady’s bauble too, for my lady  
Titania doth attend on us tonight.  
An should it her pleasure be  
To change thee into fair instrument  
Of her fancy, thou shalt attend.

PUCK: Being, then, as we wait  
On fair Titania’s attendance for  
The greater game, might  
Pass the while in small sport,  
Entered ‘twixt us two.

OBERON: Gentle Puck,  
Try me not. ‘Tis not meet  
For loving servant to so  
Misuse his lord.

PUCK: Nor would I so,  
For all the world. Yet perchance  
This Puck is tempted with  
Other prizes, and for that  
Might try thee. For such a  
Fault, permit me mend. I’ll  
Do any task thou dost  
Allot me, if only for thy pardon.

OBERON: My pardon thou shalt have,  
And chance to make proper restitution.  
I know thy kind, my spirit, and knew  
E’en upon our meeting what thou wert.  
Nay, I shall have patience from thee.  
‘Tis poor courtesy to be otherwise  
Engaged when expects more in way of  
Company.

TITANIA _offstage_ : What ho, my Oberon?

OBERON: Within, lady mine.

_[Enter TITANIA]_

TITANIA: I see hast begun without me.  
What, impatient for thy game that  
Would begin without a player?

PUCK: Indeed no, madam, for  
Despite much talk of pearls and plucking  
Have yet to much progress  
Beyond that which seest thou here.

TITANIA: Then, fair spirit, I do commend  
Thy pains, for seems that clever tongue  
Has stoked the fire of thy lord.

_Crosses to OBERON._

Methinks, my lord, ‘tis time and past  
The game progressed.  
All players present,

_TITANIA pushes OBERON down on divan_

Let us then commence.

OBERON: What would my lady?  
Shall wind fingers in thy elf-locked  
Tresses, or wrap’d in spider’s silk,  
Made sure and fast ‘gainst couch?

_TITANIA straddles OBERON’s hips_

TITANIA: Thy lady, lord, would  
Stop thy tongue with kisses, and  
With caresses raise thee to  
Attend her pleasures. Come, gentle spirit,

_TITANIA tugs PUCK forward by his hair_

Thy lord requires thy assistance.  
Bend wicked mouth and clever tongue  
To render’t.

PUCK: As my lord and lady  
Do command, so I obey.

OBERON: Sweet mischief, thy talents  
Are as ever without compare.  
And you, my lady fair,  
Are ill-garbed for this our sport.

TITANIA: Then ‘tis duty of my lord  
To remedy my dress. Attend it.

_[OBERON tugs TITANIA’s robes down her shoulders. Curtain falls. End scene.]_

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide, Culumacilinte! I hope you like it!
> 
> My first time writing D/s, never mind Shakespearean, so I spent a lot of time thinking up innuendos and blushing madly. This turned out to be more about the leadup than the actual sexytimes, mostly because I stared at the page trying to figure out how to properly, uh, communicate the act in script form before giving it up as a bad job.


End file.
